Buried Cosmos
by Tia Ordona 23
Summary: The promise of new marriage is exhilarating, blinding. Jill knows this, but even she is devoid of the vision of her future with Marlin. This is the tale of the three skipped years of the first phase of marriage, the truth under the happily wedded facade.
1. Antikythera

My first Harvest Moon fic, based off of AnWL. Usually I write very weird, out-there pairings, but I just had to write this. XD This is based on the prompts for the tamingthemuses community on Livejournal...how else would I know what an antikythera is? I really hope you enjoy this...I enjoyed writing it. :)

--

Disclaimer: Do not own. Never will own. Word.

A feather, the sultry hue of cerulean. The sun catches upon it and makes it glitter. Silver specks peek from the deep indigo, contrasting it. They look like the gleam of stars in a clear night's sky…elegant, dazzling, perfect. Lovely.

My dirty hands tremble, and it looks as if I am trying to balance the fine, delicate object over my calluses, my blisters, the earth in which I sow seeds. I am not attractive, never dreamed of receiving this gorgeous feather. I am a simple farmer, nothing more or less. Yet here I stand, a shocked girl who can scarcely draw breath at the position she has been placed in.

The dark-haired man in front of me chortles as he studies my reaction. "Why are you so surprised, Jill?" he asks, his voice gruff and sending nails into my spine. "You're beautiful. The most amazing woman I've ever met." His hand closes around mine, encasing the shimmering symbol of love within it.

Brilliant pink rises to my cheeks when these words slip from his tongue. He never says things like this. He never shows his emotions. But at this moment, his eyes are soft, and his words are tender. And I am in a dream, a hazy, surreal painting, a fantasy. I nearly pinch myself to make sure I am awake.

"Jill?" The voice sounds tenser, worried. _More like him._ "Are you all right?"

"I think so," I breathe, laying a hand on my chest. Not a second later, I realize that his arm I wrapped snuggly around my waist. The pink on my cheeks deepens to scarlet. "Marlin?" I can see the blue feather in the hand that isn't supporting me. It pops from the black and white shades of the rest of the world, a hue of blue so angelic that it looks as if it were a piece of heaven itself.

I grab the hand on my hip quickly. "I think I need to sit down."

The son of the hotel owner would have laughed. The musician would have tried to help me stand. But Marlin quickly throws open the door to my cabin and helps me to my bed. Marlin respects my wishes.

Perhaps that explains my love for him.

--

"_Goddess!"_

_I gasp loudly, my hands flying over my mouth, and my veins surge with adrenaline. It's dark, and the wind whistles to eerie silence. The only light comes from the pinprick of stars in the sky, scattered and glowing brightly. I can hardly see anything past the thick, suffocating blackness. Shadowy shapes cloud my vision, surround me._

"_Jill?" The owner of the gruff voice moves forward, and my heart flutters when I recognize him. He comes into view, stepping out of the shade cast from the roof of his homely cabin. I piece the images of him together as he comes forward, toward me. The wrinkled, white button-down shirt; crumpled jeans; black, hopelessly riotous curls; intense, blue eyes…_

"_Oh, Marlin," I mutter, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry…for scaring you."_

"_Mmm…" He closes his eyes for a second and then opens them, averting them to my own. "S'no big deal."_

_The wind whistles again, a long, lonely sound. The top of the hill is always gusty and secluded, far-removed from Forget-Me-Not Valley's town square. In a way, it is…sad. Lonely._

"_What are you doing here?" Marlin asks quietly. I stumble in my words during my answer. _I'm here to see you.

"_Uh, um…I, uh, left my watering can here." No, I didn't, and even _he _knows that. "I think."_

_He arches and eyebrow. "You need it this late at night?" he asks me shrewdly._

"_Um…w-well…never too late to water," I tell him in a would-be knowledgeable tone._

_I expect him to continue to frown at me, but instead, a smile tugs on his thin lips. "Yeah. I guess you're right."_

_I giggle, a small and annoying sound to my own ears. That's when I notice the circular device in Marlin's arms. It looks as if it were a giant stone compass of some sort, an intricate, decorative design. He sets it on the ground with a small grunt, and I see the opportune moment to change the subject._

"_Um…what is that?" I ask innocently, pointing to the thing on the ground. _

"_Antikythera," Marlin informs me proudly as he twists one of the heavy wheels with difficulty. _

"_Anti-what?" I ask, perplexed. I trail my finger across the rough, unpolished surface. It looks ancient, perhaps a couple hundred years old._

"_Antikythera," he corrects patiently. "It's an old machine. You see the wheel I'm spinning? It has a bunch of dates on it, and when you enter a date into the spot, it tells the location of the sun and moon." His chest puffs out slightly. "There are only a few in the world. My family has handed this down for generations."_

"_Wow," I mutter as he takes careful note of the readings._

_He suddenly lifts his head and turns to face me. "You grow plants, Jill. Here, this will help. The sun on Autumn 8 will be more at an angle, so make sure your southern field gets plenty of water until winter." His gaze pierces mine. "It'll keep the plants healthier."_

_I am captivated by him, and can hardly draw from his eyes. He is fascinating, intriguing. I want to know more about him…no, I want to _be_ with him. "Uh, yeah. The plants." I swallow. "Thank you, Marlin."_

_My heart is in my throat as I walk home, thoughts of him still twisting in my head like the wheel of the antikythera. Slow. Steady. Intellectual._

Brilliant.

--

"Jill? You okay?"

The voice is uncharacteristically warm, but its effect is always the same: a heart fluttering like a caged bird, electricity shooting up and down the limbs, stuttering in the speech, blushing…

I hear a deflated sigh, and the bed's springs groan as he shifts. It comforts me that I am not the only one ill at ease, and yet, makes me nervous. Every movement I hear from him is still ringing in my ears. His face is burned into my mind. I hold him close to my heart, and I want him to know that.

"Are you…are you asking…me…what I think?"

He stares.

--

_There is a severe, abrupt anger in the way he heaves the gears of the antikythera. He throws it one final distance, and with a trembling growl, the dates and planets fall into neat alignment._

"_M-Marlin?" I splutter in a small gasp. His behavior alarms me…he is usually never this violent, this intense. He is a stony, silent man…almost shy. But not this, never this._

_He sighs, and his fingers brush against the hard rock of the device, before he halts and faces me. "Celia and I…had an argument," he explains, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. I tilt my head in curiosity; he continues. "She asked me if I like her as a friend, or…" he trails off._

"_As a woman," I finish in a murmur. He nods absently, and then waves his hand dismissively, even though the fresh hurt in his eyes makes it obvious that he can't just drop the subject. _

"_It's no big deal," he tells me a little too firmly. "No big deal. Nothing to be concerned about."_

_I want to protest, to address what is eating him on the inside. But I don't. I watch him grit his teeth and cross his arms. And we stand for a while, pondering, until he suddenly speaks._

"_The planets are aligned in the Spring," he nearly whispers in a fond voice that doesn't belong to him. I shift my eyes to the antikythera and see a neat, simple row of orbs, a clean line. _

"…_Yeah," I manage to say, pretending to stay mesmerized on the antikythera when I can only think about him._

_The peaceful, solemn silence stretches long into the night as a man and woman gaze at their universe. I don't want it to end…yet at the same time, I want him to speak, just to hear his voice one last time._

_--_

He is the first to shatter the pregnant pause, his voice taking a hardened edge to it. "Look, Jill. All I know is that I _love_ you. When everyone is gone, I'll stay by your side. I'll protect you with my life. I love you, and I'm sure that I want this." His eyes are like two deep pools…I can see into them, read whatever I want. Take what I want. Learn the truth. He is vulnerable for the first time, and my heart swells so much, it nearly breaks. My vision is blurred with tears, and my chest is fluttering tightly with raw, unspeakable emotion.

"I love you, Marlin. Since the day we met." I swallow thickly, and my voice breaks. "And I want to be your wife, more than anything. I feel as if I don't deserve you, but…somehow I'm yours. That's why…that's why…I'll take you as my husband…" I draw a hand across my watery, overflowing eyes.

His gaze upon me is intent, indescribable, as wordlessly, he hands the sparkling blue feather to me. I take it gently, with both hands, and hold it close to my heart, taking shuddering breaths.

He carefully reaches up and uses his thumb to caress sweat-laden brown bangs from my forehead, touching me as if I were made of precious glass. "With you, Jill…" My name lingers for a second on his lips. "I think I will regain my strength."

I throw aside my pondering of what I had done to deserve him. It doesn't matter, because now he is mine and I am his, and we will always be together.

Always.

--

"_The planets will be aligned in Spring." _

The antikythera shudders as he winds the gear slowly. I watch the whimsical little circles form an orderly line as the day slides into its place. He uses his wrist to wipe a trail of sweat from his forehead, and then steps to my side, entwining our fingers together.

"I think we should have the wedding a week from now," he says thoughtfully, "on the day the planets come in line."

I immediately agree, squeezing his warm hand that rests in mine. "Yes," I manage to say, too thrilled and overcome to speak.

He turns to face me. "Our marriage is sacred. I will love you forever, Jill." He moves closer, so close that I can feel his warm breath on my skin. Goosebumps prick my body as I move in, pulled like a magnet.

Before I know what is happening, he delicately presses his lips against mine. I crumble on his kiss, my knees and weak and shaking spastically. We've kissed before, oh yes, but this time is…different.

My heart skips a beat as his tongue slides into my mouth, gliding around it in exploration. Tasting me.

I repeat the gesture in a hungry sort of pleasure, breaking through the barriers that were set a long time ago. I want more, more…

Our deep kiss is private, only the burning light of the moon and the antikythera in its wake.


	2. Eidetic

At long last, I have another chapter. Things seem pretty good so far, but trust me...they won't be. XD Thank you to all reviewers...I appreciate every word you write. :)

Here's chapter two, Eidetic.

Disclaimer: Did I put this in the first chapter? If not...I do not own. Don't sue plzkthx.

--

The bouquet in my hands is a bundle of cosmos, a delicate flower to represent the embodiment of a young girl.

It had been Marlin's idea…he had said that in that walk down the aisle, I would be a young girl for the last time. He told me that I should always embrace my youth. The red flowers are dainty, delicate, yet have an unleashed beauty to the thin petals, the luscious scarlet. I study them, and study the pearl-colored silk dress, feeling the beading along the neck, the sash on the waist, the lace on the sleeves and skirt.

I want this memory to e forever eidetic, an imprint on my mind that I can cherish for all time.

The thin veil, comb held in place by copious amounts of hairspray to tame my wild brown locks, disorients me, makes the serene ivory all a dream. Just for me, the whole square of Forget-Me-Not Valley is draped in a white aisle, a small altar, sprinkled with white lilies. This has to be a dream…and yet…it isn't.

It's all happening in front of me, and my heart beats with a fluttering euphoria that triggers a great wish of running down the aisle, declaring him mine, and jumping in his arms. Yet as the piano music swirls delectably around my ears, I take baby steps to my new life, my nerves riding me through an arbitrary whirlwind of emotions. The crowd sitting in the seats murmurs to one another as the bride marches down a walk to change her life. I squeeze the bouquet with all my strength, desperately attempting to mask the trembling of my hands.

My veins flood with immense relief over the fact that my ear-splitting smile can't be seen to the people, as well as my deluging eyes. I know for a fact that the blonde bartender would be disappointed if my tears would run their course. After all, she had worked tirelessly on my mascara and eyeliner, perfecting all her errors, until my eyes sparkled and my hair bounced with loose waves.

"_When I'm done with you, you'll be the most beautiful woman in Forget-Me-Not Valley!"_

I had snorted at that. Not a chance.

I snap out of my thoughts when I notice the rapidly dwindling distance of the altar...and I see Marlin on it, smiling with a little red shaded on the apples of his cheeks.

When you love someone-really, really love them with all of your heart-everything else in your life fades into a multicolored mosaic in the background of that person. Even when I had been apart from Marlin, his face still lingers in my mind, and every detail upon it is traceable. I can see the way his icy eyes melt with a smile, the crow's feet that begin to take their place at the outer corners of his eyes, the single, stubborn curl that he could never manage to comb back. I see him, eidetic.

And suddenly, the other details fade away as his smile melts itself to an eidetic memory in my mind.

Before long, I am in front of him. His eyes lighten to a truly unexplainable kindness as his gruff hands encase mine.

The bouquet of cosmos, of my own youth, falls innocently to the ground. And I don't bother to stop it, because I cannot thrive on these photographic memories of Marlin. I need him, in the flesh, at my side. I need _him._

And no eidetic memory can ever quench that thirst.

The pastor smiles kindly at the two of us as my eyes overflow, on the verge of spilling over, sending me over the edge. But I don't. I do not intend to spend my wedding day with black trails running down my cheeks.

"Are you two ready?" the pastor asks us. My heart lights up as I nod furiously, the words slamming into my memory."

He nods wisely. "Well then, let's begin." Marlin uses his rough thumb to caress my wrist. "Marlin…do you promise to love Jill unconditionally for a long as you live?"

The world seems to stop as Marlin squeezes warmth into my quaking hands, his eyes narrowed and intent. And yet, I know that he doesn't truly hesitate. "I do!" he announces, the two words swirling around my head. At the beautiful, poetic sound of them, the tears are finally released, running down my cheeks in tiny rivulets.

The pastor is absolutely beaming as he turns to me. "Jill…do you promise to love Marlin with all your heart, for a lifetime and beyond?"

My throat is groggy, and yet, it works furiously to pronounce the time-honored words with dignity. "I do!"

The pastor shuts his aged volume with a small thump. "I now pronounce you man and wife…" And I practically enter a beautiful time warp as my tears pour out in happiness, and Marlin reaches out to finally pull the veil over my head, rendering the dream as reality.

"…you may now kiss the bride." And once again, he kisses me and I kiss him, reaching out to touch his chest as our voracious hunger combines to form one monstrous beast. But he pulls away quickly and I hesitantly withdraw, choosing to hold his hand and scan through the observers.

There is Muffy, the beautiful bar tender who had generously prepared me for the wedding. I give her an awkward smile and shrug, but she shoots me a thumbs up and mouths "waterproof" over the clapping and cheers. I sigh in relief. Muffy really is a lifesaver. She smiles back at Griffin, the barkeep, who is offering his polite applause.

The innkeepers are cheering. Ruby is clapping her plump hands and laughing, and her husband laughs with her. Their son is looking away from them pointedly, but still smiling and Marlin and I.

Nami is sullen as ever, but the red-headed traveler can't suppress the tiniest smile that swallows her usual distant frown. Gustafa is at her side, his hat lowered for once, showing his small ponytail, his guitar taking its proper place next to him.

I spot Lumina at the piano, beaming a slightly watery smile, her grandmother giggling a delighted little laugh.

Marlin's sister, Vesta, substitutes tears for a hearty laugh, her red hair neatly combed for once, and her dress clinging to her bulky figure.

And then I see her.

I see Celia.

A hollow, bitter smile is plastered on her dainty face, and yet, deep into her gentle chocolate eyes is pain, unrequited pain, unmatchable. And suddenly I understand…it is all clear by the jealousy present on her features. Celia loves Marlin. Marlin loves me.

It is strange, how memories can be eidetic, even if they aren't shrouded in love. A look of utmost jealous can also do the trick as well.

I swallow and force myself to turn away, but the haunted gaze in her eyes is still burned painfully into my mind. And no matter what I do, nothing can ease the image from its position at my shoulders.

--

The usual mellow, laid back field of my ranch is now ablaze with dancing, music, and drinks.

Marlin kisses my cheek passionately as the two of us sit down at the edge of the long table, him sipping his Stone Oil and I sipping my Cherry Pink in turn. "You look beautiful," he tells me, locking his eyes into my own.

"You're lying," I answer, even though my cheeks heat with pleasure. "But you look very handsome."

He laughs, a warm sound that makes my heart melt. "It was a fine-looking wedding. I think everyone was happy for us."

I feel a stab in my chest as I remember Celia's doe eyes, wide and hurt. "Yeah."

He gives me a long, hard stare, reading me like a book. "What is it?"

Normally I would have shrugged it off, let it escape my grasp. But then I realize that Marlin is now my _husband._

"Celia," I murmur, butting my nose against his jaw and smelling the tangy fragrance of cologne and earth.

His eyes avert to the small, sulking brunette, riveting to her face. Celia is pretty…she has wide, expressive eyes and long, russet, tresses with a copper glow. I think Marlin once had a crush on her, but he deemed it long gone. And I believe him.

He shakes his head. "She's just having a hard time." His eyes travel back to me. "She's jealous of you. Easy to understand." He smirks.

I roll my eyes and shift, allowing Ruby to dole several dollops of food on my plate. "Eat up, bride!" she exclaims cheerfully, ladling a lake of gravy on top of the seasoned mashed potatoes.

I thank her, offering a genuinely happy smile. That's when I hear the clink.

I glance upward to see Rock, raising his wine glass, his spoon close by it. I sigh. How did I know?

Marlin and I lock lips for a brief second, and then hesitantly pull away, and the crowd laughs merrily. Marlin pretends to be indifferent, but the smug little smile shines through his uncaring mask as he slices his steak into small pieces.

I eat thoughtfully, chew slowly, not in the mood to consume a buffet when my stomach is active with a million tumbles of joy. The rich flavor of meat and potatoes barely melts into my tongue as I swallow them mechanically, performing the tired ritual with disinterest.

Not a few minutes later do I hear the warm strumming of a guitar and look up from my half-finished meal. In the front of the large paddock is Griffin, striking a wistful sound on his guitar, giving a meaningful look to bride and groom.

"Do you want to?" Marlin asks quietly, catching my hand in his. I nod once, and the two of us run toward the center of the ranch, him pulling me by the hand, both of us breathless with laugher.

He suddenly becomes solemn as he places his hands upon my waist, his touch light and gentle. I lean into his broad, well-muscled chest, feeling the same giddiness as the two of us sway to the timeless music.

Our audience claps softly, murmuring fondly, and for the time being, I forget Celia and stress and the rest of the world and wish that this moment can last forever, stretch to eternity.

"Tomorrow begins our new life together," he breathes seductively down my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

"Mmm." My nails dig slightly into his shoulder blades. At last, Marlin and I can finally be together forever.

After all, eidetic memories can never withhold me for long.


	3. Swank

Icketh ick. XD This chapter is not my favorite, but I think it pulled through for the conditions it had been written in. ;3 School has been dumping homework on me very frantically, and marching band is, well...marching band.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short little chapter, Swank.

--

The lavenders cradled in his hands are so delicate, so beautiful and fragrant and swank, that I can't resist the urge to grasp one of the sun-warmed, velvet petals. It is a fine thing, a beautiful replacement for the week-old cosmos of my wedding day. The flowers are long dead, but there symbolism is no longer treasured by me. After all, I am no longer a young girl. Not anymore.

Marlin smiles at me as he places the long stems into a clean vase, brimming with cool water from the pasture's pond. "Do you like them?" he asks bashfully.

The warm mauve, the feminine ruffle of petals… "Yes," I answer boldly, taking his hand and collapsing on to the bed next to him.

"Good," Marlin breathes, grasping me more tightly. I can't shrug away the dewy heat of his body. It raises me, awakens me, becomes the bane of my existence just as he had done himself.

The afternoon sun shines harshly upon the ranch. Summer is rapidly approaching…I can feel it in the arid temperature, the sweat that trickles down my neck and temples. It is exciting…summer is a time of simple pleasures, of bliss, of love, a time to go to the beach and curl up in the sand, watching the world fly by… The thought of having a loved one at my side this year makes my chest swell.

As the days of the week had passed, I found a growing, continual love for Marlin. He always complimented my cooking, always took the time to clear the table when I was busy, helped sow the seeds to create new life, new energy, for the people of Forget-Me-Not Valley…they say that marriage is a way of separation, but it is my belief that the marriage has brought us closer together.

The seven days of being a newlywed had been chaste, unadulterated heaven. The small things-waking up and seeing his gorgeous head on the pillow next to mine, walking with arms linked to the market, his smile as he savors the warm taste of home cooking at the Inn-all blend together into a smooth, new way of life. Each day is attractively different, and yet thankfully, the same.

My thoughts immediately fly from their trail when I feel Marlin grasp my forearm. His blue eyes are smoldering, hazy with something I can't recognize. Something digging deep, its roots burrowed into him, long-suppressed. Something alarmingly instinctual, carving into a million years of human existence. An expression of urgency, that something that cannot be set aside anymore, that demands attention.

And then the curtains life and I see lust…pure, unrestrained _lust_. Everything surfaces as he kisses my arm, his lips trailing up its tender inner part. His lips are soft and gentle, barely a touch in itself, and yet, they leave a trail of erotic fire behind them. I can feel the thoughts, how careful he is to not inflict harm on me, snap me in half like a twig…

And at that moment, I am utterly terrified at the things my husband can do.

Adrenaline beats its way through me as I gracelessly leap from the bed, shaking violently. He gives me a look of confusion, the spark slowly fading out of his eyes. "Uh…Marlin, I…" I whisper slightly, hesitantly, carrying on. "I…I'm just not ready for this yet."

The hurt is too livid for me as it stabs right through his face, an immediate transformation. He hangs his head and looks awkwardly at his bare feet that crinkle the crisp linens. "You don't trust me…" he mumbles.

A stab of pain pierces my own heart. "No, no!" I stutter with haste. "I…I…just…don't…"

The hurt slides away slowly, and the expressionless façade swallows him whole, eats him alive, just as it did when I had first met him. "I understand…" He moves away from me slightly. "I'm sorry…"

I crumble in upon myself, feeling awful at how cowardly I am. I silently scold myself as I slide into bed next to him. He drapes a tentative arm around my waist harmlessly, and I can sense all the lust, completely gone. He is just my husband, lying on the bed. Things are so ordinary, all of the sudden, that I can't help but wonder if those predictions of his thoughts were actually true.

_A no-good wife…_

Nestling into Marlin's muscular, toned chest, my eyes travel to the beautiful lavenders in the corner of the room. What are they called? Oh yes, Ethel Grace, a common, pleasing flower that appears to be swank, yet it is easy to grow.

Just like people. Swank, elaborate clothes, elegant makeup, and ornate jewelry can detract from one's true image, a reflection of their inside that they insist upon hiding from the rest of the world.

--

"I'm going to work at Vesta's."

The new day's dawn is a beautiful one. The pinks and purples shoot from the clouds, tinting the sky a childish shade of pale yellow. Overtop the horizon are the hills and mountains, completely blackened from the light behind them, making the nostalgic scene more dramatic. At the same time, I can almost taste the drama in the air as I turn to face my husband. He has a determined set to his jaw, an expression that I can never refuse. But the things that alarm me are his eyes…where the ice has melted into steaming water, cold, flat glass has returned overtop of his emotions, blanketing his thoughts safely away from me.

"Vesta's?" I ask quietly, anxiously kneading my palms against one another.

He nods. "I promised Vesta, and…" He pauses as the name passes over his lips, "Celia that I would be there to help them out. Now with the Spring harvest coming up soon…"

He's lying. I can feel the lies in the way he looks at the ground, the way his hands are gripping each other behind his back, the way his arms are so tight at his sides that it would take me an hour to iron the creases from the button-down shirt he is sporting today. I feel horrible, ashamed at the thought that he would ever hide anything from his life.

Somewhere in my head, I know this has to do with yesterday.

I sigh and scratch the back of my neck. My hair is already plastered to the sweat on my neck after watering the fields by hand, by myself…it is clear, how much I need Marlin in my life. "All right. I'll see you at four."

He nods once respectfully, and then heads outside. And I am left alone for the first time in seven beautiful days, with nothing but the breaking dawn to keep my company.

The lavenders in my vase are already beginning to wilt. Their petals droop in mortal exhaustion, browning and creasing at the edges, withering with a sign of remarkable age. Perhaps Marlin should not have picked them out…

So these flowers wilt quickly. Their masks are down, and they are truly exposed. And we, as humans, with our hatred of ugly things, toss them aside, not willing to embrace the new insides of the flower we once marveled.

Society only accepts the swank.

But in a world where emotions and feelings are in control, the term "swank" means nothing.


	4. Seychelles

A serene, isolated paradise, a gem against the endless coast

A serene, isolated paradise, a gem against the endless coast. A shimmering jewel, a fairyland of cerulean blue, lush green, and blazing tan. A paradise, the beauty of tranquility, the peace that blossoms blissfully, stretching on against the dark gray of the jagged boulders nestled on the edge of the beach. The corner of the earth, the edge of the earth. Timeless.

My childhood journeys to Seychelles were the highlights of my life. It had been an escape, a way to shelter against the turbulent flow of time, the world, life. It was an easy route to blinding oneself of the horrors of society. Seychelles was the object of my fantasies, my reason for breathing, for trudging through a broken childhood with just one parent.

Just like Marlin: My reason for running a farm, gaining strength, becoming one with myself, earning respect from others. Marlin loves me and I love Marlin, and isn't that how it always will be?

On this day, I can never be so sure.

The waves swirl around my legs, the water cool and silky about my calves. The wind caresses my cheeks, tugging at my hair. It colors the beach of Forget-Me-Not Valley in dreary shades of blue, the gray, downcast stratus lurking in the sky. The world is buried in shadow, mirroring my emotions. Not Seychelles, but close enough.

"The scenery here sure is beautiful. Isn't it, Jill?"

My heart shudders wildly and I cup a single hand over it, muffling the fluttering beats. But it is only Gustafa. His red-oak guitar is perched lopsidedly on his side, his green hat towering over him, the flowers peeping from it. His chapped lips are curled into a serene, knowing smile that I cannot help but return.

"Er…yeah," I stutter awkwardly, absently recalling my younger days in Seychelles. He nods and tips his head to the sky, admiring the thick layers of rain clouds and feeling the ocean spray against his face.

"So…" he rocks back on his heels, the breeze toying with his minuscule ponytail. "How's married life?"

A pang, fresh with hurt in my heart. "Um…well…"

Through the circular lenses of his sunglasses, he glances at me critically. "You know you can tell me anything." A pregnant pause, until he gives birth to the words that have been haunting me, a long-standing question I have always dreaded. "Is he hurting you?"

I frantically wave my hands, beating the words from existence. "No, no! It's nothing like that." I try to sound strong, but my throat cracks sheepishly.

"Well, then…" he gazes at me intently and plops down on the soft sand, propping his elbows on his knees and slouching, catlike. "Enlighten me."

I drop to my knees, sinking into the ground. The sun feebly peeks from a cloud, making the ocean glitter endlessly.

Not Seychelles, but close enough.

I hesitantly swipe a piece of seaweed from the damp sand, peeling apart the okra-tinted layers. "He didn't hurt me…" I explain, trailing off as I avert my eyes from his.

"…I hurt him."

He tilts his head, silently coaxing more words from my mouth. "He…he wanted to…er, take me. And, I said no, that it wasn't the time. But…I could tell he really wanted to." Gustafa nods, putting the pieces together. Musicians have an incredible ability to string together notes, patterns, make sure the tones and pitches form a perfect harmony, an expression that all can understand.

At this thought, the bottled-up story finally breaks free, escaping my mouth.

"How could I be so blind? I never willed for anything like this to happen. It was like…" I sigh heavily. "Like when we got married, I was too blinded by love to even think ahead."

Gustafa digests the information, contemplating it. Again, he raises his head to the sky, as if searching for answers in the eternal arc. "Sometimes…sometimes we think we are blind when we see what's really there." He looks back at me. "You dig?"

I blink once. Do I really? Am I just seeing something that is real, a river of passion, a reservoir deep inside of me?

"Go talk to him," Gustafa cuts in sharply, his voice hard and yet gentle and kind. "Find out what's wrong. Go, Jill."

--

My feet hastily trot along the dirt road, dragging me all the way to Marlin's workplace, the farm.

A part of me is aroused, hungry to be with my love. And yet, another part of me is hesitant, almost as if it is a foreshadowing of the things that could be happening. I try in vain to push away the terrible visions of him, loping from Forget-Me-Not Valley, running away. No matter how hard I try, they come back...I will never forget the hurt in his eyes, the pure lust in his actions. As I job clumsily down the winding path, my heart shrivels in tentative fear, the unwilling feelings inside of me bubbling and boiling.

The fence looms in view, becoming closer and closer and closer, the mismatched planks barely clinging on to how useful they were in the past. I gasp for oxygen, a burning cramp kinking the muscles of my calf. But I stop dead when I see his familiar rumpled shirt and jeans, his pile of ebony locks. He is curled protectively around something, enfolding it in his strong arms, and pressing his chin up against it, his ice eyes narrowed as if he is battling some torrent of emotion.

And then my blood freezes.

He is passionately holding Celia.

The smile melts off of my face, and the world turns to a bloody color of crimson. A breeze ruffles her green calico skirt, entwining it around his legs. Her fingers seductively lie on his chest, the tips of them almost digging into his pectoral muscles. She is pressed up against him. Loving him.

"_Our marriage is sacred…"_

Seychelles is shattered into a million shards, shards that no one will ever bother to pick back up. The little fantasy of mine has just broken my heart, scattering its remains.

And never again will I have the energy to pick them up.


	5. Cavort

Goddess, hear my prayer…

_Goddess, hear my prayer…_

The desperate plea escapes my lips and almost immediately dies on the faint whisper of the gales, muting the prayer. But it still is a fresh wound on my heart, a pain in my chest, stabbed and torn apart. The eerie silence lapses over the Goddess Spring, making my skin tinge with chills. This sacred little lake is a refuge, a safe place for those who are injured. A haven. And right now, as the crises nudges into my life, it my only comfort. I do not know what to do, who to tell, what to say. For the umpteenth time since I had flocked to Forget-Me-Not Valley, I have no control.

I was confident that marriage would mend that problem.

The feather, the promise, is in my cupped hands, resting atop my palms. I had thought that bringing it here would help me heal, but instead, it seals the hollow emptiness in my chest. Already, the light peppering of silver glitter is rubbing off onto my hands. Despite the blackness of night, I can see the shimmering sparkle, and the metaphysical glow of the waterside lilies makes it twinkle like a million stars, dancing and cavorting across my skin. It's beautiful, but the cheerful playfulness of the sheen irritates me. I feel as if I can never cavort like them again…as if my feet are too trodden by grief and heartbreak to even try.

I turn the feather around in my hands, observing it. Now that all the elegant silver as fallen off, nothing remains but a simple feather, the deep, intense shade of indigo. The fake glamour is gone, and I am not blinded by the first glance. I can see this thing for what it truly is…a feather, plain and simple.

I stroke up and down the soft fibers of it, absently glancing at the turquoise surface of the lake, smooth, glassy, and perfect.

This isn't just a feather. It is a _promise_. It is a bind between two people, a relic as sacred as the Goddess Spring itself, the motif of every breath I take. Fancy or not, this feather represents a union, a sign of true love…raw, unfiltered love, every ounce of emotion.

There is no real way to stay with one person forever, own that person, keep them all to you. It takes two people, and even then, the connection is invisible.

But a promise is a promise, and this is one that I know _I _will never break.

I stuff the feather into my denim pocket, staring at the surface of the water. Fireflies light the sparkling surface, their fair legs creating ripples as they submerge close to the water and quickly jerk upward in the face of danger. The ripples are tiny, yet still mar the delicate surface, birthing a gentle movement from within. The fireflies, the surface of the spring…everything cavorts in joy of the bounty of nature, in pure glee and ecstasy at being alive.

I can't cavort now. I can only hope that I can embrace life as it is further down the road.

--

The house is a cozy little cabin on the farm, but seeing it fills me with cold dread, creeping from my fingers to my toes.

The windows flood with a buttery yellow light, a comforting glimmer of home in the darkness. But as my feet force themselves closer and closer, my home twists into an ugly house, a bitter parody of the place I had one lived. The boards contort and become mottled with rotting stains; the dust on the windows clumps to form haunting silhouettes; the door becomes big and heavy, ominous, with heavy bolts attached to it that would creak loudly if I dared to open it; the furniture is rickety and covered in desolate cobwebs, the legs of Marlin's favorite chair becoming thin and spidery…

My heart nearly stops, freezing my body into a locked position as I can only look into the windows with a fascinated horror.

Marlin is staring at me through the thick pane of glass. His eyes are locked on to mine, but I'm reading him, looking into his emotions And all I see in those icy blue eyes is concern, laced with relief. Passion is buried deep into them. He is so vulnerable. And I cannot take it any more.

Before I can register the motions, I spin sharply on my heel and am running, running faster than I ever had in my life. My feet fly as my body wracks with wild sensations, feelings that tear through me like tissue paper. It had been a few hours since I had seen him and Celia, yet the image of her hands, clinging on to him like he was a lifeline, is still painfully clear in my head.

I can see her green calico skirt, blowing around his legs. I can see her russet locks, silky and shining as the fan out on his well-muscled chest. I can see the protective curve of his arm around her waist, a gentle arch that I had thought was reserved for me and me alone. I can see the fierce glint of his eyes, as if he were cursing the world for causing her the misery. I can see how beautiful the little painting is to a person who didn't know that Marlin was married already. It is a beautiful image, it really is. But with meaning added into it, it warps into something ugly and shameful.

It was perfect. It was how I had pictured our love in my wistful daydreams, with me in Celia's place. I was the one who had nestled close to him, who had begged him for protection as my invisible tormenters, whoever they may be, come close. And he always drives them away, a knight in shining armor, an act of valor.

My breath becomes haggard as my legs become heavier, full of lead as each step causes sharp pain in my lungs. I stop immediately and double over, panting heavily, trying so desperately to catch the breath that I had lost. I'm so alone. I thought I would never be alone, and yet here I am. Alone.

In the blissful week that had past, I had not missed this sentiment.

I have no where to go. The darkness is thick and suffocating, causing a barrier to split me from the town. I don't know where I am…I am off the ranch, perhaps on the east side of town, but I can't be sure. I feel sick to my stomach, and my legs finally give out, my knees knocking too hard for me to even move. I hug myself tightly as I sink into a shivering bundle on the ground, a pathetic mess.

"Oh! Jill!"

The feminine voice rings through the screaming silence, finally breaking the painful quiet. I close my eyes and sigh raggedly, feeling broken beyond repair as two gentle hands place themselves on my shoulders. The tears finally break free as the voice tries to soothe me, quiet my whimpers.

When something hurts you, you'll do anything to ease the pain. Anything possible becomes necessary as your hopes crash. You cling to the people around you, knowing that you are a burden, but continuing to hold on to them. They are your lifeline.

But when the pain is emotional, nothing…_nothing…_can erase the hurt except time. Humans hate to wait for things when instant satisfaction should be nearby. They want to expunge something they don't want immediately.

Maybe that is how I feel now: like nothing can save me but time, but the pain is too much for me to bear.

I can't help but smirk at myself as the tears come harder. My escape was not in a cavorted gate…but it was probably the closest thing to it for a very, very long time.


	6. A Rolling Stone Crushes Toes

Ahaha

Ahaha! Apparently my vocabulary is really advanced. XD Not in real life, I assure you. XD Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The prompt was a total lulz, I almost laughed when it showed up on my friends page. ;3

--

Celia really is a pretty girl.

As her delicate hands flit to each saucer, I can't stop myself from nurturing this thought. Smooth, sun-kissed skin; soft, brown doe eyes; rich, russet locks that curl sensually at her thin shoulders; a narrow waistline, blessed with feminine curves; that sweet smile that graces her gentle features…Even with such a simple task like making tea for an unsuspected guest, she looks elegant and radiates contentment, a glow that makes her look angelic.

How could Marlin ever choose me over her?

Carefully, Celia pours the tea from the scrap-iron kettle, filling the cabin with the scent of warm, damp earth. A frail curl of steam drifts wistfully to the ceiling, into a misty cloud. She spoons the sugar cubes into each drink, one at a time. Then she adds the milk, turning the near black into a light shade of caramel. She slides the saucer toward me, and we each wordlessly take a drink, mine a long, calming drag and hers in small, ladylike sips.

The first flavor on my tongue is a bitter, herbal taste of the tea leaves, but the milk washes it away, combining with the sugar to polish off a creamy finish. The sweetness seems to kiss it all away. If only things could work out like that in real life. If only.

Celia's smooth brow is creased as she eyes me, watches me put down the tea cup with a small chink of the china. "I hope you like it," she tells me coyly. "I always add a lot of sugar to my tea." She offers a kind, little smile, but I can tell she wants everything to be perfect.

"No, it's fine. Really,' I reassure her, grinning sheepishly. Her brow smoothes as the smile stretches, mottling dimples into the fair cheeks. "I like my tea sweet." I take another drink to emphasize the statement, the heat burning my mouth.

The silence is building, the tension mounting. I can't help but shift a little in the mismatched cabin chair. Normally, Celia is a very restful person to be around. Her silence is content, never awkward. But today there is something buried in her eyes, something frighteningly different.

The quiet is stifling, and I open my mouth to let the words flow, bring some oxygen between the two of us. But Celia beats me to it, and the single sentence that slips from her trembling lips sends shivers down my spine.

"You really worried me last night, Jill." I tightly wind my arms around my torso, pressing my elbows into my sides. "I-I thought you were really ill, or hurt…" Her lips quiver; this must be hard for her too, and I somewhat sympathize. "What happened last night?"

_What happened? _It was the question I had been dreading since I had come here. What should I say? What can I say, when she is at fault almost as much as him? I'm speechless. I swallow thickly and say nothing, staring into the murky brown depths of the tea in front of me.

The next question makes my blood turn cold. "Did something happen with Marlin?"

My lungs convulse. All of the air inside of me escapes in a harsh blow from their violent lurch. Before I can stop myself, the hysteria overtakes me. I leap from my chair, using my hand to swipe the teacup off of the table. It shatters daintily as my fists ball up at my sides. "You would know!" I shout, the red on my face deepening a thousand shades from rage.

Oh, how desperately I want to gaze upon Celia's face, to see the horror, the sickening revelation of her sin. But I can't bring myself to look at the wounds in clear view, the unbridled pain that she so carefully masks. My heart can't muster up the strength. So, for the second time in two days, I flee.

The world rushes past in a vibrant whirlwind of bright summer colors. I see the endless ocean of gold corn, bright red tomatoes, and succulent green, unripe plants.

"_See that, Jill? That's the kind of satisfaction a good harvest brings."_

Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, accumulate, and threaten to spill over if my emotions even dare to fly. But I simply speed up my brisk job and furiously mop them away with my wrist. I am sickened, repulsed by myself. Haven't I cried enough about Marlin yet? Marlin isn't worth it. Marlin is the kind of trash my friends and I would have spat at on the streets. Marlin is not a committed husband…he never was, never will be.

This thought did no beat the hard fact that I thought he had loved me and had indulged in his feelings, only to find that the only love I had ever known was fake love, love that cannot be properly returned.

_Snap!_

The sickening crunch from my foot halts my thoughts. The horrible, burning pain up my toe sends them back into frenzy. I fall to the ground, rendered helpless, not daring to even try to peel my shoe and sock off my offending foot. I can already picture what lurks underneath: an angry, purple bruise; distorted skin tearing open, wide and bloody; a bent toe bone, unnatural and broken, stained by the rapid flow of blood…

But I really do see a small boulder beside my foot, overtop of it. And it is then that I realize that I am on the hill of the Harvest Goddesses' Spring, and my foot is crushed into a million pieces.

"Damn those rocks!" a harsh, familiar voice barks, and my mouth quickly dries. It's Marlin. It's Marlin. It's Marlin.

His gruff hand slides up and down my shoulder, rubbing it in gentle, calming circles. My cheeks burn as I try to hide my head, shamefully covering up my blush. I will never, _never_ let Marlin ever hold anything against me to his advantage.

"What's going on?" calls another familiar voice. It's his sister. Vesta.

"Damn rolling stones. Here, help me get her up." His rich voice draws itself to the crook of my ear. "Are you all right?"

I gasp in pain as the pair hoists me to my feet, but I nod.

Inwardly, I'm cursing the fact that a rolling stone really does crush toes.


	7. Claddagh

Two gentle hands cradle a crowned heart

Two gentle hands cradle a crowned heart. The golden ring shimmers, a gleam so lovely, sparkling in the harsh fluorescent light that the aged doctor uses to scrutinize the wound on my foot. It is a paradise gem in a sea of angry purple, the bruise that spills from my swollen, misshapen big to, to faint, gossamer traces across my inside ankle, like a delicate spider web. I feel a bitter sickness rise up my throat as I glance at the harm to my foot; I gaze fixatedly on the doctor's ring instead, feeling its cool caress as he probes about the wound.

Doctor Hardy's mechanical eye swivels to my own, then to my object of fascination. The menacing eye's bolts and parts don't even make a sound…I feel as if I had underestimated the power of the technology.

The gold blurs slightly, the outline going fuzzy as my eyes fill and become heavy. Perhaps the mechanical eye isn't the only thing I have underestimated…

"Like that, don't you?" Hardy asks me in his characteristically gruff voice. My eyes dart to his face… a smile ghosts across his hardened features, the corners of his mouth carving wrinkles into his pockmarked cheeks.

My cheeks turn to a ripe pink. "Yes," I answer rather breathlessly. "I've…never seen anything like it."

He nods and leans back on the musty, three-legged stool. "It's called a claddagh. It comes from a far-off land," he tells me, his beady remaining eye clouded as he reflects upon the past, "a lush, green plain, far, far away. It rained a lot there, but when the sun shined, the whole world sparkled with dewy light." He observes the ring on his finger, contemplating it. "I bought this from a local vendor. It's a symbol: the hands are friendship, the heart, love, and the crown is loyalty. All those good traits you find in the ones you love…they're all right here." The creases on his forehead are smooth, for once, and he looks thoroughly peaceful. But my mind is too far gone for me to notice.

Love…friendship…_loyalty. _They are three things that can make life, marriage, complete. How I yearned for a person willing to give me these gifts. How I thought I had triumphed, only to be whipped back in the mud by my own husband.

A startled gasp of pain bursts forth from my lips. "_Ah_!" I yelp.

Hardy quirks his eyebrow, his expression serious once more, plunged back to the unsympathetic reality. "Hmm…just a bruise, I suspect. Nothing seems to be broken. Just bruised."

The strangled, trembling exhale tumbles forth from my throat. "All right…" I respond, still recovering from the fresh, juicy poke on the wound. Hardy retrieves a bag of ice and begins to firmly wrap it in place with a bandage. I chomp hard on my lip, sinking my teeth into the sensitive skin on it, while my eyes flood with something other than emotion.

"You'll need to keep this compress on until night. Afterwards, you can take it off, and put it back on in the morning." He finishes the wrap, securing it with several pins. "I tell you, Missy, you sure are lucky. With a hit like that, I was sure you lodged your toe right up into your foot." I visibly shudder, and another slightly bitter grin creeps on his gnarled face. "There's someone waiting for you." With a hearty swoop, he whisks away the bath curtains that conceal the examination table.

My eyes land on the kitchen table's bench, and my mouth goes dry. Jet black curls…ice blue eyes…arms crossed over a rumpled shirt…delicate vulnerability, hanging on by a thread…

Marlin sags in relief, gripping the side of the table. "How is she, Hardy?" he breathes, the energy sapped from his usual hardened-edge voice.

Hardy nods. "She's all right. A little bruised up, but all right."

Marlin practically melts into a puddle on the ground, but instead, picks himself off the ground and wraps a tentative arm around my waist. The contact spurs a leap from me, my blood running with electricity. He takes no notice as he helps me off the bed, uttering thanks to Hardy. I am too much in shock over what has the potential of happening to even utter a word.

The valley is dark with night, mist hanging lazily over the grass. The blackness is suffocating, making me unconsciously cling to Marlin. But Marlin says nothing. He knows I know.

So say it, Marlin. Just say that you love her.

The warm, yellow light floods my vision as we quickly lope into my home, a sacred refuge from which I had fled. My lip trembles as my husband deposits me on the bed, and takes a hesitant seat next to me. There is something…something present in his ambiance that is a sharp bundle of knives, knives of heartbreak and betrayal and sorrow that sink into my skin.

He rests his hands on his knees, mustering his words to attack. "Jill…why?"

My heart explodes with raw, unnamable emotion. "Just _say _it, goddamn you!" I tremble with unsurpassed rage. I am tired of heartbreak, tired of sadness. I would raise this farm all on my own. I do not need help from a petty man. I could do this. I could do this. I could do this. I am strong enough, if I could survive this.

"Jill, say _what?_" he asks, gritting his teeth against his own rage that threatens to consume him.

"_Tell me you're cheating with Celia! Tell me you love her!_" I spit acidly, the voice splurging out of my throat sounding foreign to my own ears.

Marlin freezes, the time slipping away as the expression on his face becomes the center of the earth. A fool would stop at the expression. It is a mirror, a portal to all of my _own _emotions when I had seen them on the fated day when I had discovered of his disloyalty. Through it is pain, heartbreak, rage, rejection, anger, dejection, sorrow… For a second, I almost forgive him; take him down into my arms, where nothing could hurt us again. But I hold strong, and his face becomes blank.

"Jill…_no…_I…"

"_Liar,"_ I hiss, angry tears welling in my eyes as I curl in protectively around myself.

He just shakes his head, crumpling, but not yet ready to accept defeat. He wants to fight a battle first. And I am fine with that. I don't need a man. Not now. Not ever.

At this moment, I think back to the claddagh in Hardy's office. Love, friendship, loyalty…

I wonder if my life can ever contain these things again.


	8. Mortal Coil

The things we do for love-struggle, suffer, need-tear apart at our souls, rip at our binds

Oooh, Marlin is in trouble! XD I hope this chapter turned out okay…I've never really had any experience with…stuff…cough Oh, and **thank you so much for your reviews! **You do not know how awesome I feel when I see them…they are the reason that I'm pulling through to this. By the way…it ain't over till I say it's over! Expect more chapters…many, many more…in the future! :D

I do not own Harvest Moon.

--

The things we do for love-struggle, suffer, need-tear apart at our souls, rip at our binds. Sometimes, our best just isn't enough. Sometimes our attempts wilt to the ground like deadened flowers. Like the cosmos I had carried at my wedding, buried. The indelible destruction of a young girl's past.

It's not worth it, I decide. No mortal coil is worth the feelings he had once given me. No mere mortal coil should be sacrificed to a man who could rip my heart out, who could destroy me in a single blow. Nothing of worth should ever be sacrificed for such trash. Nothing.

To see myself, seething in the grime-streaked mirror above my dresser; to see him, sinking lower and lower as my words dig into his heart and echo through his mind: these are mortal coils in the name of perpetual freedom. Freedom is something worth fighting for, always. Freedom should _never _be tossed away. I had learned that through a mistake, a mistake that I sought to fix.

"Listen to me, Jill…"

Marlin sighs and runs his hand through his unruly black hair, contemplating a response. _Let him. Let him think of something to say_. I was interested in listening to any rejoinder. He was trapped, he was cornered, he was caught. Nothing he could say could change my mind. Words can only express so much…but in a tale of emotions, love, hate, passion, lust…in a tale of feelings, words are useless bullets that whistle past. Little things of no worth. Futile attempts at victory.

But words are not his tactic.

All of the sudden, his lips are pressed against mine, tightly. My world is spinning, twirling in a distant breeze, whirling and drowning in an ocean of his passion.

I try to pull away, but can't. It is now that my eyes close, my breath morphs with his, my being sinks into his own existence. It is now that I see his role in my life, the completion of my full circle. It is now that, in a fascinated horror, I discover that I still love him. I still love the man who broke my heart, cheated on me, married me and tried to use me.

But I am blind, and these thoughts melt when his tongue gently probes mine, explores my mouth. How…how on _earth_ could he be using me? With all of this love I can feel, how could he fake this? How could he love two people with this burning passion? How…how…?

Unable to contain myself anymore, I break free from his deep kiss, gasping for breath. I want more, but I restrain my lust, the feelings that touch something deep inside of me and stir my instincts. I loathe myself for even becoming the tiniest bit doubtful at my own theory, but at the same time, I want to know what it is going on. Marlin is still my husband, someone who I care about. I have a right to know what is eating me…_us…_on the inside.

Marlin exhales and rests his hand on mine, and I don't pull away, drinking in his loving contact. I am curious. Not in love, just curious. He looks straight into my eyes with a piercing honesty, one that vaporizes any qualm. I have to look away from his intense gaze, and finally, he speaks quietly.

"Jill, I love Celia, and you know it. But I don't _love _her like a husband loves his wife." He squeezes my hand once for emphasis, and I blink, feeling moisture collect in the corners of my eyes even before the whole truth is uttered. He smiles at me sadly.

"I love her like a sister. She's practically my niece, and I could _not _do anything sick to her." There is a certain fire alight in the atmosphere as he continues heavily. "How could you think I was cheating? Do you not trust me? Damn it…" He raises his voice, his temper getting the best of him. "Do you not _love _me?"

My head whorls in shock as I try to recover from his harsh blow. I had entered this situation as a victim…now I am a criminal, a con. But instead of anger, I feel shame for distrusting the man I had called my lover. I am a monster for ever going against him, for soiling the precious first year of our marriage with my selfish discontent. Looking back, I _knew_ that he felt like a brother to Celia. And it hits me how my own self-seeking prevents another brilliant relationship in Marlin's life.

"Her mother had taken ill…she was in the hospital!" he breathes, and his breath hitches. "Jill, she was _crying on my shoulder_…what was I supposed to do?"

My composure finally crumbles as the tears trail down my cheeks softly, my eyes spilling over as the emotion becomes too much for me to stomach. Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms tightly around Marlin's waist and hang on for dear life, my body shaking with unrestrained emotion. The fiend here is me, and I blamed him. I hurt him. I hurt Celia.

I hurt myself.

He hugs back, his breathing gentler now as he calms slowly in my shaky embrace. Tenderly, he kisses the top of my head, swaying the two of us back and fourth. "It's alright. Please, don't cry. I didn't mean it," he pleads gently. It astounds me how calm he is after I had wounded him so. The torrent of sobs escapes me, painfully, as I reflect on our wedding, his proposal, our early days.

"How…what…what am I supposed to do…to say I'm _sorry?_" I moan into his chest, trying to calm myself with the powerful rhythm of his heartbeat.

Using the tip of his finger, he tilts my chin up, allowing me to meet his eyes. They are vulnerable, but also strong and fair. "Nothing. I know you're sorry. I know." He allows me to fall in his arms once more. "There's nothing you can do, because I know. It's useless, Jill. I trust you."

And I trust him, too. I never thought I would have thought so again, but they are fresh in my mind and heart. Finally, the truth is traceable in this relationship. My wishes, my prayers, come true.

Time passes. The air cools and kisses away my tears at the aid of Marlin's cuffs. Outside our window, the sky darkens at the approach of twilight. The world flies by, and he is at my side again, a fated full circle.

I shift in his arms. "How am I ever going to tell you how much I love you?" I ask quietly, curling my hand around the rough flannel of his shirt.

"You don't have to do anything. I told you, I know." He smiles gently at me, and I sit up tall so I can kiss him again. Our lips catch again, delicate, in another kiss that sends my hair standing on end. Marlin deepens the kiss gently, sliding his tongue into mine.

The release of it is unwanted, but starts his trace of kisses down to my neck, causing a trail of erotic fire to burn in its place. He is gentle, as if trying not to hurt me. I am not afraid…I am too intrigued.

I feel his hands, sliding under my shirt and finally pulling it over my head. I repeat the gesture, beginning to unbutton the flannel. This is it. This is how I can express my feelings. It is the only way, the ultimate symbol of togetherness.

I am scared, but ready as ever. I want to. I want to delve into this new part of a relationship, to explore, to feel more passion than I have ever felt and have the comfort of those feelings being reciprocated.

Maybe I am a fool. But as the two of us dive under, I know that every mortal coil ever suffered is worth this reward.


	9. Hide and Seek

I had lost hope.

The wistful fantasies of true love had woven a variegated pattern on my heart. In an emotional of whirlwind of hide and seek, I had gained and lost. Destroyed and created. Rendered myself and weak and grew stronger. But as the seasons wore away my vitality, I opted to move to a land where deep passion could be eternal, made immunized.

Then I met Marlin, and deep red dominated.

Even in my marriage, hide and seek still exists. We can never indelibly seek something that is forever hidden. And yet, as a nuptial team, Marlin and I proved that we can continue to seek what is hidden. So long as I walk down the blazing, winding trail, his fingers will always be laced within my own.

As I lay under the dewy warmth of his arm, snaked around my bare waist, I shoo away my doubts one last time and try to digest the events of last night.

The sun peeks over the mountain, pouring its light upon the cooling earth and blooming rosy colors across my rustic floorboards. The warmth dances across my shoulder, trickling goose bumps down my arm.

He shifts his arm slightly, sighing in content and pressing his muscular back against my shoulder blades. I can feel his cool breath against my sticky neck, and it elicits a small shiver of pleasure from me, driving a plethora of memories into me.

He was gentle, yet so powerful. I clung on for dear life as fire roared around us, as the stars were close enough to grasp, as he gave me more love than I can ever ask for. I gave him myself, and he gave me himself. Forgiveness. All my doubts were eradicated with the deep words he had uttered, the sensations that tore through me.

It's over, and a new dawn breaks across the still horizon.

Light floods the house, awakening its two lovers to a refreshing day of bliss. Marlin slides his arm off of my hips as he rises and stretches, along, contented yawn escaping his throat. He tilts his head to gaze upon me, and tingling heat stings across my cheeks as I clench the blankets closer to my chest. There is nothing left to hide, yet modesty had accumulated upon my shoulders, bowing me with weight. Marlin chuckles and extends a hand, pink also adorning his cheeks as I pull myself next to him and rest in the crook of hi arms.

A thoughtful silence, glazed with adoration, follows. Marlin's fingertips brush my hip, and then he speaks the only thing that can possibly _be_ spoken after a moment like this.

"Good morning."

I place my hand atop of his, basking in the faint heat that radiates from it. "It is," I agree softly, my emotions pouring all onto me at once as he kisses my temple once more, running his hand from my shoulder, all the way down to my hip, making circles on the descent. I shiver again and catch a sight of myself in the mirror. The transformation from last night is amazing.

Where there was an angry woman whose eyes were livid with anger, is now a woman whose eyes are twinkling with a sort of tranquility, a peace offering to the world that had caused her such suffering. This sanctuary of a house was once a wistful memorial of the things that were once promised, once were. Now it is back to its splendor, a new shrine to marvel at the pleasant past and future.

Where there was once bitterness and yearning, there is now new life. Hide and seek is over.

---

The rows of summer crops, ready to harvest, form a boldly-colored quilt across my sprawling fields. The thin dash of red is a row of plump tomatoes; the thick, lush green is a row of juicy watermelons; the straight row of melons forms a beige stripe; and the row of leafy green is a row of milky-colored turnips, eager to burst forth from their nest in the warm earth.

It is the final day of summer, and the heat is dying, each second making the air more frigid and cool. The sky is a magnificent hue of turquoise, the leaves on the trees quivering in the northern winds. The refreshing scent of the mountains is a perfume that mingles with the alluring scent that wafts from my basket of pride and joy, my crops. The sweat dries, sticky and thick, upon my face, yet the feeling of accomplishment is well worth it.

Marlin lopes to me, his basket overflowing with ripe produce, and my heart swells at the sight. He approaches me and wraps an arm around my waist, kissing me delicately once more. I kiss back, tasting the sweetness of his soft lips. He quickly moves his hand to my head, smoothing my tangled brunette tresses that are swept into a ponytail out of laziness. I sigh out of contentment, the emotions finally dying as serenity overtakes them, a fervent nirvana that the two of us will share.

He breaks away for air, looking at me and smoothing my sticky bangs away from my face, a coy smirk of amusement dawning upon his face as the stick to his hand. I try to look defiant, but I am positive that my eyes are too softened to succeed.

"What? Harvesting is hard work!" I shoot at him playfully, slapping him lightly on the arm.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad. I did it all the time for Vesta, anyway," he counterattacks, fixing my hair so it lay across my head in a more presentable fashion.

I shrug, unable to fight back. How can I fight back to the one I love with all my heart, the one I just got back for a reality that I thought would never happen?

He chuckles, knowing he has won, and shifts the basket so it lies more firmly on his hip, scrutinizing the crops with an expert eye of a lifelong farmer. "Good harvest this year, I reckon." He grasps a tomato, feeling the innards with his thumb, probing it with a harmless hand. He is pleased with the texture, the consistency.

I smile. Everything right now is perfect. With a good harvest, excellent health, the changing seasons, and the one I love who will always be by my side, life is finally beginning to take a turn for the better. The earth scent of the leaves and upturned soil is a perfume, combining with the alluring fragrance of the fruits of our labor. The sun is setting, painting the world a magnificent shade of gold. The blue feather is tucked safely into his shirt pocket, and once it again, it finds its glitter, strong and determined in the light of dusk.

Hide and seek really _is _over, and the two lovers have emerged triumphant.


	10. Window

I've got a niiiice long chapter for all my beautiful readers! :D Honestly, you guys are great. Your reviews have kept me going, and I'm so glad to get them every time I update. Anyway, thank you so much and enjoy Window!

---

I am the river.

I am the silky blue ribbon that carves life into the raw, earthy crevices of the valley. I am the transporter, the keeper of the delicate paper boats of a child, the drifter of a pure white lily that erupts from my glassy surface. I am a mirror, a reflector of the harsh, livid sunlight of afternoon.

A day passes, and I am the forest.

I am the faithful protector of my valley, the tall and proud bodyguard of my dearest homeland. I am a vessel, suited for cradling life in my gnarled, branched fingertips. As the season change, I also…I abhor the frigid temperatures and embrace the mild, warm ones.

And yet, another day passes. And I am the sky.

I am the venerable painting that reflects the energy of the sun, the source of my vitality. I am the thing that disperses magnificent colors upon the landscape, the one that scatters millions of diamond stars on the velvety indigo of twilight. I clasp my valley in my palm and hold it closely.

This is life. A full circle that has yet to be completed. A single link in a perpetual chain, the universe. Life is all around me, surrounding me, enclosing me in a warm envelope. Life is inside of me…

Inside of me?

Something is growing. Something latches on to me desperately, seizing me and clinging tightly. Something yearns for attention and passion and comfort…_my_ maternity, and no one else's. _My_ love.

And a sense of responsibility curls around me, pulling me tightly into its unbreakable bonds. My heart thumps loudly, dully throbbing, a pulse that overtakes my whole body. The nights turn to days and the days turn to nights and time soars to the beat of my pulse. The being that I am harboring turns warm, then hot, and pent up energy explodes from within me.

The stars disperse, sliding away like a thousand gems, falling helplessly into thick silence, blackness. The colors of the sky lapse to an emotionless gray, closing a dome around me. The forest loses its leaves and wilts into a weepy mess of tangled wood, the energy sapped from it. The world stops.

An infantile wail quivers through the still air.

And everything bursts forth in a jumbled rush. The sky explodes with extraordinary color. The trees are sucked toward the sky, leaves and flowers blossoming from their bare, haggard limbs. The river gushes and bubbles forward with vivacity. The northern breeze chills me, yet the sun warms me, kissing away the cold.

All is still and peaceful, all but the high-pitched cry that sends a cold, jittery swoop to the deepest pits in my stomach.

My eyes snap open. I am lying in bed, Marlin snoring softly at my side. I clutch the woolen bed sheets closer to me, shivering and recuperating from the dream. Cold sweat forms a pearly pattern upon my temple, and I sigh, a quivering, hoarse breath. What on _earth_ could posses me to dream such strange things?

Morning touches the world, and I roll to my side, glancing through my window. The trees have gone yellow, red and orange, following through to a spectacular finale before their petty deaths. A single leaf trembles and silently succumbs to force, spiraling lightly to the ground. The ranch is motionless, long and quiet under the cerulean sky of a new day. The window is a small box, a frame for the boisterous world it encloses. I hug my sheets a little closer, watching as the ever-sullen mist over the field finds its greetings in the air. The pasture is barely alight over the thick fog, the tufts of white clinging to the newborn sprouts of the autumn's pick.

New life.

A cramp grips my lower half, paralyzing me. A splutter of pain escapes my cracked, parted lips as it squeezes me, seizing me in agony. I try to relax, but it doggedly hangs on, through my wracking breaths and half-hearted massages. Tears of pain gather at the corners of my eyes as the burning constricts my lungs, blocks the passage of precious oxygen.

I can barely see through the vibrant stains on the lenses of my eyes. It isn't until I hear Marlin's soothing murmur that I realize he has awakened to my suffering. His fingers lightly graze circles on my hip, his hands slinking under me as he gathers me into his arms. Settling into his lap, my head lolls onto his chest, and I absently place my hands on my stomach. I can feel my own muscles, twisting and trembling violently. Marlin places his hands over top of mine, using his rough, calloused thumb to stroke my whitened knuckles.

"Are you sick, Jill?" he mutters with a hushed tone in my ear. "Where does it hurt?"

I moan, a long pitiful whine, as I wait for my muscles to relax. And so the two of us sit in contented, golden silence as the morning stretches on. The pain begins to fade, ever so slowly, and I chase it away with the soulful strength, radiating from my husband.

Bile rises into my throat, hissing into it, burning into it like acid. I bite my lip and tighten my grip on my stomach, trying to calm the fierce bubbling in my stomach. But it rages on, and I can't take it. I cannot take it.

I rip myself from Marlin's soft embrace, jumping to my feet with urgency, but faltering in my tremendous weakness. "I…I…"

Marlin's brow creases for a second, before repulsion swallows his expression. "Oh, Jill…" he murmurs, hopping to my side.

I rush into the bathroom, and my stomach gives one final lurch before heaving, flipping upside down. Foamy vomit pours from my mouth, leaking from my throat. My stomach turns and twists with every thrust, ridding itself of the vile liquid. After moments of violent retching, I catch my breath enough to rise. Marlin releases my knotted brown hair from the nape of my neck, gently bringing his cool hand to my cheek and patting away the sweaty dampness on it.

"I'm going to call the doctor, okay?" he asks slowly, his eyes folding tenderly at the corners with increasing concern. "It's probably just a bug, but we don't want to risk anything." His guise is calm, but taut lines are still drawn at his mouth.

I sigh again, gripping my pained stomach as I reach for a jacket. Outside my window is a perfect painting of scenery. I yearn for that tranquility. If only everything in my being could be as peaceful as the panes of my window.

If only.

---

"Hmmm…"

Hardy's beady eye narrows as he surveys the results carefully. Nervously, I fidget with my hands in the sterile waiting room, pulling against my dry skin again and again. The seconds tick by on the nearby clock, slow enough to suffocate me. Marlin presses his arms onto my shoulder blades. The hurt, bottled inside of me, has slowly receded to a dull neutral, and yet nerves are mishmash in the pit of my stomach.

_Tick…tick…tick…_

I catch a brief glance at the results of the simple blood test. Bright pinks and reds are evident in it, but the symbols are meaningless to me. As the seconds drift by lazily, I want nothing more that for Hardy to flesh out words to animate those colors.

_Tick…tick…tick…_

Marlin clenches his jaw, bites his tongue, but the aggravation slides from him. "Listen, doc. Would you _please_ tell me what's wrong with my wife?" he snaps.

Hardy raises an eyebrow, and I press closer to my seething husband, huddling from the impact of the words that the doctor will speak. And the seconds feel like hours as the wait's final moments simmer, and I know that I can never, ever be as peaceful as the panes of my window again.

"Quite frankly, Marlin," the aged man starts slowly. "Jill's illness is not necessarily something to be unhappy about." And his features contort to a smile. "Rather, I should be saying, congratulations!"

The clock stops. The seconds halt. The tension melts to unbridled euphoria as the impact of the words hits the two of us. In less than a second, Marlin's face goes from sullen to joyful, ecstatic. And all the pieces fall to place at that incredible moment. A link in the chain of the universe…

"You…you mean?" I stutter breathlessly.

The doctor beams magnificently now, happiness that makes an ugly face like his, angelic. "That's right! Jill, Marlin…you are going to be parents!"


	11. Dreamland

Heyas, Harvest Moon fandom! Get ready, because as of now, Phase 2 of Operation BC is underway, yay! :) Thanks to all of you who reviewed, and if you didn't, then do so! The reviews keep me impulsive through this project, and to be completely honest...the inspiration is dying a little. I know someone mentioned the descriptions were a little forced...I completely agree, thank you for pointing this out. It is because this is my longest work yet, and usually I can never finish anything. So anyway, that's why reviews are vital to this story's life force! -is hit with brick-

--

Swirls of emotion hurl their sharp arrows into my chest, mercilessly dazing me with overwhelmed, breathless blows. A lick of ecstasy, a dash of fear, and a cold wash of dread glazes my inside as a smile pushes its way onto my face, a true smile. Yet I shudder in fear and tears sparkled voluminously in my eyes. I am overcome. For a short, speechless second, I am totally and completely overcome.

I flinch at the rough sensations of Marlin's hand, gruffly shaking me from my moment in unending twilight. "Jill…Jill!" he barks from the strain of worry and his own contradicting feelings. I glance up into his eyes and see the same sheen across them as the one that spreads a film over mine. My heart sags in relief; at least I am not the only sap that immerses herself in the moment, gorging in the syrupy dreamland of the future.

Hardy has the knowing little grin upon his face as he waits for one of us to break the silence. Even with a cold, mechanical eye whirring in his socket, gentle warmth grazes him. Warmth is the most fitting description, indeed…it is everywhere.

And yet, only traces of it are present in Marlin's stony eyes.

Finally, my vocals find their proper treble niche, and my speech is a flowing candor, a paean that serves as an outlet in which I feed my energy. "Wow…a baby…" I raise my hands to press against my womb, as if touching the newborn life it yields. "How wonderful!" The smile broadens to an earsplitting grin.

Marlin exhales a long, shaky breath, scooping one of my hands in his and squeezing it in his.

Hardy rattles off onto a busied speech, one that I am sure he has in manuscript, or at least engraved into his mind. "Yes, congratulations, both of you. Jill, I trust you will take better care of yourself during your pregnancy. Get rest, eath three balanced meals, avoid caffeine…"

In a sort of fascination, I can feel maternity devour me whole. I am bowed with the weight of child's life, and yet, I am imbued with a need to protect this being, this beautiful creature that Marlin had gifted me with. My throat is tight with it, and I can barely soothe my mind from its excitement.

In the midst of a colorful dreamland, I can still feel…nerves, as a tight know in my stomach. And I know Marlin can feel them too, just as magnified.

---

"Marlin?"

My voice is a soft murmur, a breathy whisper. My husband raises his eyes to meet my own, and I bob my head and sidle over, making room on the cushioned mattress. He slinks over to me and sits, the springs groaning their own welcome.

He has an expectant expression, so I pull the soft bathrobe tightly about my figure and let the nagging words burst from my mouth. "Are you…happy?"

He nibbles on his lower lip, contemplative, and I wince. Why does he even have to think? Recoiling, I nestle into the soft folds of my ivory robe, drawing comfort from the soft candlelight that lingers at the table from a silent meal. I want to escape the blinding future, but I cannot. I long for a general framework of what lurks ahead, but my wish is brutally impossible.

Finally, he speaks. His voice is gentle but confident, ringing out the tone of reassurance into the quiet of our home. "Jill…of _course_ I'm happy. I couldn't…I could never ask for more than what I have now, you know that? _Never._" His normally cool eyes crumble to sweet softness at the edges. "I am nervous, but it's useless. I know that as long as we are together, nothing will go wrong." I scrutinize him for tufts of doubt. There are none.

My breath escapes in a heavy exhale, and I don't even try to fight the small smile adorning my lips. He mirrors it, and then fondly kisses the top of my head. My cheeks brighten to a glowing fuchsia, and he backs away, a little satisfied and a little hesitant.

"I'm glad. I'm so glad," I murmur to him, falling into his muscular arms.

"Me too." He sighs contentedly. "Jill, we have to tell everyone we know, all right? We have to decorate a nursery in the best things we can find." I giggle into his shoulder and he chuckles himself. "I'm serious! This is going to be big."

"I know. It will be." I pull away and give him a small, jubilant smirk. "Because this isn't just any child. This is _our _child."

He is again contemplative, his countenance alight with happiness. "Our child…"

The dreamland is here to stay.

As I slip into the warm bath, I feel accepted with open arms. Maybe…just maybe…the two of us could pull through. I shut the door quietly as I hear Marlin sliding under the covers of the bed, and finally sink into the water, letting soothe my bodily cramps, and my worries.

The sweet fragrance of lavender fills my nose as I inhale the tranquil scent that wafts from my freshly scrubbed tresses. My damp hair hangs hot and tangled at my back. The bathwater is clouded with the lavender, but its warmth is still comforting, massaging my aching abdominal muscles.

It feels so relaxing, so dreamlike, to soak in nature's sweet perfume and bask in the luxuries of the present. As each second passes, the strain of life slips from its unpleasant roost on my shoulders, to the stagnant pool of the past, where it will remain.

I find my shoulders looser and less burdened. My husband is indulging in peaceful slumber in out home, I have a healthy baby on the way, and fall harvest has smoothed over the indelible concern of winter…dreamland. Heaven. Perfection, and I'd be a fool to ask for more.

My eyelids droop as the room becomes blurry, and I begin to succumb to my omnipresent drowsiness. Tomorrow will be another day to venture into…but first, rest…

A sound from the front of the house jolts my eyes open.

Irritated, I lean over to twist my hair into a woven towel and tie a robe around myself, stepping slowly from the warm confines of the water and into the frigid air of late autumn's fury. I shiver, wrapping my arms around my torso, and heave open the door, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The fire is crackling merrily in the stove's hearth, its embers illuminating the room in orange and yellow. Beyond the glow is a figure of a woman.

I freeze in terror, my mind racing and my pulse throbbing.

Penny loafers adorn her feet, and her frame is plump. Her round face is creased with age, but still familiar, still kind. Her graying hair is swept into a flawless bun.

_Oh. My. Goddess._

"M-mom?" I choke out.

She grins dazzlingly and trills: "It has been a while, Jill. How are you?"

It is then that I notice the hefty carpet bag in her hand.


	12. Thirst

As dawn cracks the hefty, dark shell of night, my slumber lifts like a gossamer veil in layers. The pockmarked wood on the ceiling is my homely greeting to dawn, and then my senses are hit with breakfast. Bacon hisses against the skillet, frying eggs along with it. Their rich scent travels from the kitchen in a wispy trail of smoke, gracing warmth to my autumnal-chilled bedroom. Groggily, I rise…the sun catches upon my feet, and I see Marlin, raking the fields outside, bundled in a heavy parka and scarf, and home-knitted mittens. What was once a blossoming garden of fluffed greens and tomato reds is now a cruel mockery of such generosity, an ugly contortion of hard knots of mud. Amazing, how time can tears lacerations and stitch them back up, create wounds and so tenderly heal them.

Yawning and stretching the stiffness from my shoulders, I push open the door to the kitchen. There, my mother is busily hurrying herself among the oven and stove, her hair in its neat bun, her bulky cream sweater swallowing her thick figure. She eyes me through spectacle-framed eyes, fondness evident beyond the thin fringe of lashes, before offering me a plat of bacon and eggs, a smile on her plump face. "Care for something to eat?" she asks sweetly.

Confused into speechlessness, I sit in the deep, cedar-carved chair an allow myself to be served. Finally, I can muster the questions from my throat. "Er, mom…not to be rude or anything, but…what are you doing _here?"_

She gives me a maternal smile with ice glinting behind it. I know this look all too well. My heart freezes with suppressed dread as I live a year through a minute. "Taking care of you," she trills casually, setting a steaming plate at my seat with a small dulcet clunk of porcelain.

…Porcelain? Dear Goddess, did she unpack the dishes already? My stomach swoops like a preying hawk as I realize that my mother has set her place.

"Um, well…" I begin awkwardly, before grinding the crumbling bacon with my teeth to gift myself with time to think. The savory taste of meat explodes upon my tongue and crunches heavily. Mom had always been a fine connoisseur in foods, a preserver of the thick flavors of nature. Her bacon is fried to a wonderful border of crunchy and chewy.

Mom tilts her head inquisitively, as my thoughts fire off, and I finally realize that she is coaxing me onward. Wrecking my rambling strand of thoughts, I plummet back to earth. "Have you met my husband this morning? He, uh, is usually up before me."

A crease folds indolently at her forehead. "Yes, yes, Marlin. He seems to be taking very good care of you," she answers absently, pouring thick, fresh milk into a washed carton. I can't suppress the tiniest smile, but I wilt at her accusing words. "Very good care, especially under the circumstances…."

The bacon and eggs churn and knead, and my appetite magically dissipates. My heart throbs, desperately delivering oxygen to my still stricken body. Then, I answer, careful to sidle past her strategy of deceit. "Yeah. Guess so." As if outraged by its ignored presence, the creature inside of me twists uncomfortably. I clutch my stomach under the table, trying to maintain a grip on it without letting my mother on.

She arches a thin eyebrow at my behavior and leans forward, trying to get a glance at my grip. "Jill, what on earth?"

I roll my eyes, trying so very hard not to appear as exasperated as I am. "Please, mom. There's nothing going on, it's fine."

There _is_ something going on. There is something that pulls me close, something that yearns for care and needs my own strength and will to survive. A parasite. A blessing. A beautiful angel. A burden. And I can see, in the future, that its thirst for life to thrive upon will soon become its divulgence.

The door cracks open, letting in the frigid waves of cold air into the house. The heavy clonking of boots against the hard ground reverberate through the palpable silence, cutting through it as if it were a knife. My husband opens the door to the kitchen and smiles politely at my mother, then at me, his cheeks a harsh color of bitten pink. "Good morning," he greets a bit shyly, stretching to reach the thin handles of the cabinet with a subdued struggle.

Mother presses her lips into a thin line as she eyes him with concentration, and my sublimity is torn apart by her intense gaze, her marauding stare. Marlin, bless his soul, tries to ignore the fact that he is being heavily inspected, but fails as he rolls from his tiptoes to his feet and rocks back to his heels.

But she quickly releases her glare as she realizes that he is going to stare right back at her until he finds out what he's looking for. "Pardon me, dear," she warbles sweetly, tucking a long, silver strand of hair behind her pointed ear. "I'm just thinking, is all. Have you had any breakfast? Feel free to help yourself."

I want to burst out laughing as I eye his expression. It is one of utmost mystification. His eyes are two doubloons of wonder, and by just looking at them, I can already unearth the eyes of our child. I settle for scraping the chair out from the table and standing by him with a small chuckle, even though it is strained.

This is so _awkward…_

The world outside glazes over, and for a second, I forget that there is a home to heat, a field to till, and a farm to brace against winter. Looking out the window at the stationary, marble-gray sky, I silently plead for Marlin to vouch for this fact. And he does.

"Well, Jill and I have to go till the southern field, so if you'll excuse us…" he mutters, grabbing my hand gently, brushing it with his, and releasing it as we pass the old woman. I can tell that she is still eyeing up Marlin, flailing for a lead on the kind of person he is. Impossible. Marlin is one of his own, completely unique.

"Ah!" I gasp quietly as the invigorating air sinks its demonic little fangs into the side of my neck. Even with a padded jacket covering me entirely, winter is more than present. Winter should already be _here_.

"Marlin!" I hiss quietly, and he looks at me meaningfully, handing me the lightest hoe he can find in the shed. "Marlin…how are we going to tell them about…" I clear my throat tactlessly, "the baby?"

He places an inquisitive hand on his chin. "Well, Jill. Your mother is definitely thirsting for some kind of knowledge…" I feel a stinging in my cheeks that isn't related to the cold, until he raises his head doggedly. "We're having dinner with Vesta and Celia tonight. And we're going to tell them everything," he states decisively.

That would most likely quench their tangible thirsts and leave them at that…and yet…and yet I fear that if I dare give drink to the ones who beg for it, that poison would sting their throats.

I hope not. With all my heart, I hope not.


	13. Great Minds Have Purposes

"Uhn…"

The throbbing of a strong heart is solid and palpable. If I reach my fingers to the vast expanse of blackness, I can feel that rhythm, tiny but powerful. If my fingertips brush against something, then I am thrown back into a cold reality. Yet even then, the beating pulsates through the still ambience of my home. The silence can not shatter unless the heart is born. Only then can it grow two strapping legs and walk away with boldness, courage to face a new frontier.

"Jill? You ready?"

If I blink, it is gone, as if I were a child, catching a butterfly with eager, cupped hands, only to be met with indolent summer air. Here I stand, clutching my jacket, Marlin's eyes peering at me ever so intently. My mother is in tow, carrying a long pan of her three-cheese casserole. Even if I am the chosen woman to bear a child to coax its heartbeat, I am not without support. I am engulfed by the well-wishes of family and friends.

I'll do all right.

I reach my arm out to Marlin, and we clasp hands, his warmth going to my own chilled body and coursing freely through my veins. His harsh eyes radiate a daring serenity, and we solemnly nod in unison, set for our impending mission.

Wordlessly, the three of us drift to the frozen air of winter's first day. Both Marlin and I know what we are set to do: with a child thriving in my womb, sharing my energy and vitality, I have to tell Vesta, Celia, and my own mother. With each passing day, the bump upon my stomach expands, and baggy overalls would not sustain me for long.

Joy or sorrow, we can fight together.

The walk to Vesta's abode is short, but the air is biting cold, the ground hard and frozen and deadened. No words can express my relief when Vesta pulls open the door. The sky is clear and dark and beautiful, twinkling with beautiful stars, but the cabin's interior…the crackling fireplace…the smile upon Vesta's round face…all are so nice and warm, melting away the cold feelings within me.

"Ah! Jill, Marlin! Come on in!"

I'll never understand why Marlin and Vesta find he need to quarrel so viciously. But then again, maybe it is their clashing personalities. With her flaming orange locks and hearty, belly-born guffaw, Vesta sure is no Marlin, the complete opposite. Perhaps what locks them in their place together is their boiling tempers, even if they are used against each other.

Vesta envelopes me in an elated embrace and lightly punches her brother on the arm, but she goes deathly polite when she is greeted by the stern features of my mother. Maneuvering the situation with ease, she surfaces her characteristic, chum-like friendliness and sticks out a rough, calloused hand for Mother to shake, flashing that signature, toothy grin of hers. "Well, howdy there! I'm Vesta, Marlin's older sister. Who might you be?"

My mother seems a bit intimidated, blown away by Vesta's strong features, but a soft smile tugs on her lips. That breathy, winded grin is the typical reaction to meeting Vesta, especially when one catches sight of her pot belly and flexibly toned arms. My mom accepts the handshake, and Vesta vigorously jolts her arm up and down, nearly yanking it out of the socket. "How do you do?" Mother asks, albeit awkwardly. "I'm Jill's mother."

Vesta's mint green eyes melt into sparkling puddles. "Well, it's a real honor. Welcome to our farm. Have a seat, and I'll call Celia down."

My mother neatly folds her calico skirt as she lightly picks a seat at the table, and Marlin plops down on his old bed, stretching out like a lazy cat and resting his head on his overlapping palms. But me, my heart is palpitating too hard for my legs to stop quivering. Oh, _Goddess, _not Celia, anyone but. How could I ever face someone who I had blatantly accused of having an affair with my husband?

Dainty footsteps echo from the stairs, and time elapses in a painfully slow manner. Vesta smiles expectantly, mother glances forward curiously, Marlin's cheeks become flushed and pink, and all of them wait for her arrival. I absently twirl my bracelet around and around my wrist, and I beg for the torture of waiting to end.

And it does. Celia stands at the foot of the steps with a cut and dry, deer-in-the-headlights look on her delicate face. Her soft brown eyes widen at the sight of my family, sprawled about her living room.

Unconsciously, I rest a timid hand upon my outstretched stomach. Lord, I couldn't do this, couldn't tell her that I am carrying the baby of the man she once loved. Couldn't shatter in her home. I am only human…and nothing could change that.

One look into Marlin's usually collected eyes and I know that the dread is accumulating in him, too, forming cold heaps of pity for the broken-hearted girl.

And looking at her, I realize that she has yet to become a woman. Her body is stick straight, flat and thin, lacking the matronly curves that I had received with the passage of early motherhood. Yet those velvety, honey-drenched, innocent doe eyes had become hardened and lost in the midst of her sorrow. A child, yet an adult, tucked away and hiding in the once soulful eyes of an eighteen year old girl.

And the seal of time had broken, so flimsy as it had been. Vesta beams at Celia proudly, placing a hand on the farmhand's gaunt spine, and leads her over to my mother. "I'd like you to meet Celia. She came to live with us a few years ago." Celia forces a painted smile that looks more like a pained grimace. "Celia, this is Jill's mother."

My mother outstretches a hand and nods civilly. Celia accepts her hand, shaking it fragilely, and dropped her hand to smooth her wrinkled petticoat.

The silence. It is a tense silence that wraps its tight fit around us. Even Vesta can't pretend to ignore the pregnant pause. Someone should dare to at least utter one word. No one does, just waits for someone else to do so.

That is, until my stomach emits the largest growl I have ever heard from it. My cheeks glow as four pairs of eyes greet me, and I curse the fact that my baby demands a constant surplus of energy.

Marlin chuckles and Vesta chimes in. I can't deflect my own laughter, and soon everyone joins. Maybe laughter is the best medicine. Maybe it is just a small bandage to nurse the deep wounds that I have created. Nevertheless, I have never had such a good chuckle in a while.

A surge of confidence bursts through my heart. Maybe this could be easier. Maybe.

XXXXX

The remains of a spectacular feast rest on the wood plate in front of me. After three helping of casserole, a fair few pieces of fresh meat, and a large slab of marble cake, topped with frosting from town, I had rendered myself full. Mom had watched me with a worried, gaze, Marlin with a fascinated one, Vesta with one of suppressed laughter.

The room is quiet again, but this silence is peaceful. Vesta and Mother wash the dishes carefully, Celia gently sorts a package of seeds, and Marlin and I rest on his patched quilt that adorns his bed. Everyone is at peace, and it is a relaxing evening, even with the ominous task in the distance.

Marlin sighs, looks at me, and helps me to my feet. We are ready to ruin this perfect night.

"Everyone…we have an announcement to make," Marlin stutters, clearing his throat. Three alarmed glances dart toward us. I gulp. Here we go.

"Er…"I begin uncertainly.

_Just say it, Jill. Just come out and say it. But how to say it?..."I'm pregnant". Just two words. That's all. Say it. Come out with it. _

My throat is dry and parched, but somehow the words leak from me, loud and clear. "I'm…I'm…"

A second halts. The world stops turning. It's just me and my family, my poor, unsuspecting family…

"…pregnant."

There's a lethal pause in the air. Vesta's dish falls to the sink. Mom's hands fly to her mouth. Celia looks as if glass had shattered on her head, entangling sharp fragments of itself in her russet locks.

And the earth becomes animated, full of color and motion. I feel someone pelt me with a rough hug. I open my eyes and catch sight of Vesta's apron-clad shoulder. "Oh, Jill! This is wonderful, I…congratulations!" She releases me and migrates to Marlin, nearly strangling him with her euphoric squeeze. She liberates him when his face begins to turn plum, and wheels to mother and Celia. "This…this is wonderful!" Her smile fades a little at my mother's milky-white complexion. "Isn't it?"

My mother eyes me up and down, taking in the minuscule bump, my swollen ankles, my hands that are so small and thin and shrouded completely in Marlin's own. Her lips purse and form a delayed response, a reaction to the new that will altar all of our lives, forever.

"…You're twenty years old, Jill."

My heart plunges deeply into my stomach, churning. "I know," I reply.

"You've only been married for almost a year."

"I know."

She breathes deeply, shakily. "This is a big responsibility-"

"Wait a second, now," Vesta interrupts, stepping to my side. My lip quivers. No. NO fighting. Please, not now.

Vesta jerks her head at me. "These two are more than ready. I've watched them farm, and they have more than enough food. Their harvests are phenomenal."

My mom glares at her coolly, her voice tight and restrained, and then she addresses me. "I told you. Before you think about having a baby, get a job in the town." My blood runs cold as she unearths the age-old warning that she had once given me, when I was young and eager and was about to take control of my father's work.

I swallow thickly, my voice barely audible. "It has been my dream to raise a family at the farm that once belonged to my father."

"That is a dream, Jill-this is reality!" Mother snaps bitterly. "I've always told you…_always_…to think before treading on your dreams…now look at what you two have done!" She pinches the bridge of her nose. "You keep your dreams close, but don't feed them. Never, ever feed them."

Marlin squeezes my hand, both of us shaking from a peculiar mixture of fear and rage. But Vesta, a strong woman through everything, places a steady hand on each of our shoulders. "You are yelling at them for _following _a dream. Haven't you heard?" She sucks in a deep breath, retraces upon a verse. "Great minds have purposes, little minds have petty dreams."

Mother eyes us all up and down, and sighs, her nostrils flaring with rage. Dark red was beginning to show on her doughy cheeks, an ugly shade of crimson. "Very well. I never had agreed on the way of the country, anyway."

Without another word, she thrusts open the door and stalks out to the frosty darkness of winter, her footsteps clacking hollowly as she journeys down the rough dirt road.


	14. Chiwara

It is the second day of winter, and the hard, gray sky does nothing to hold back.

It exhales a stinging cold breeze that catches upon the delicate snowflakes and makes them dance, twisting and tossing them through the jagged fingers of the gnarled oak in the farm yard. Like frilly, lacey ballerinas, they follow it faithfully, swooping in graceful arcs and creating stark glaze of frosting against the bare, muddied earth. Through the cold, clear panes of glass that shield my windows from the biting air, my eyes try to trace the gentle descent of the snow to the ground, savoring the jewel of magic that only comes with the first snowfall.

Absently, my fingertips stray to my swollen stomach, brushing up against it fondly. Feeling its fitful kicks, listening to its faint but defiant heartbeat…I am becoming more and more smitten by my unborn child. Each day, it matures, becomes more complex, and I cannot contain my own excitement for it to be born.

And yet, as the solitary oak snags its way into my vision, my heart sinks like a stone, tossed carelessly into the river. Somewhere, beneath the blanket of snow and frozen ground, my father's remains lurk deep under the light. And when I spot the tree, it is but a bitter reminder of how unfair life can really be. How it snatches the pure-hearted. How it leaves us so alone.

_Alone. _The word is simply chilling, meaning and truth in it that no single human would ever wish to morph into reality. Even now, my house is empty and vacant, only me inhabiting it to watch a new season unfold. Marlin has left early in the morning to scavenge for the finishing touches of his much boasted-of nursery…

A knock reverberates through the still ambience, yanking me from my offset musings as I rise, with detained difficulty, to greet my unexpected guest. _Perhaps Marlin had bragged to the town boys long enough, _I wonder, an amused smirk tugging at my lips.

But when the door hinges wail and the rush of cold air meets the warmth of my home, it is not Marlin who greets me with his bashful grin and pointed eyes. It is not the face of my husband that I see.

I see my mother.

My expression contorts to one of unintentional shock, until the numbness melts and anger swallows me up, all of my conscience and willpower restraining me from slamming the door in her face. But her own expression seems to wash all of her harsh words from her memory. The cold wind whips her silver tresses, and her eyes are round and pleading. I sigh heavily and step aside. I haven't seen my mother for a time after the incident at Vesta's, and I am hungry for an explanation to justify her cruel actions.

Mother senses my unease. She steps through the doorframe, never breaking eye contact, never looking away from me, and sets a small, colorful bag on my nightstand. My brow furrows in confusion for a short moment, before I turn cold and stern, defiant. She eyes me guiltily herself, as if she were a child in the midst of a scolding.

I put my hands on my distended hips and speak. "You better have one hell of a good reason for acting the way you did."

To my surprise, her eyes soften at the corners and her face crumbles, from its own stern façade to a gentler, more understand shell. "I know," she murmurs softly, "I know, and I'm sorry. But that isn't why I am here." Silently, I coax her to continue, and she inhales deeply, painfully. "Well, Jill, I just wanted you to know that…I won't always be here."

My composure shatters in a matter of seconds, and my chest aches dully as if someone had punched me there. My mouth moves dumbly, and I question and chide even though I know full well of what she is talking about. "What…what do you mean?"

I don't need clarity. I don't need an explanation. Just tell me it isn't true.

She chuckles mirthlessly, as if reading me like an open book. "Oh, Jill, do I have to spell it out for you? My days are numbered by the day, and you, my dear, should know."

I can feel my eyes widen, like a child listening to an ancient ghost tale, a nightmare. Of course I know, of course, but hearing it in spoken word is a like a blade against my heart. "But why, why are you telling me this?"

Mother shakes her head serenely, and her hazel eyes trail down to my enlarged womb, studying it. Violated, I reach down to cover it with my hands, but then I realize that she is merely contemplating, looking for the answers I demand. Putting her daughter in front of her. Finally, she draws one from deep within the depths of her person. "Seeing you, with a husband and baby on the way…it just made me realize that I am getting older and…maybe that my time on earth, with a new generation, is leaving me." Her eyes sparkled with unnamed emotion as she reaches out to cup my cheek in her hand, to caress my russet hair. The pureness in her eyes makes my own chest constrict.

"Look at you: my sweet beautiful girl, all grown up," she whispers in pure jubilance, an instinctual sort of pride seizing her. "At a time, when your father died and we fled from this place, I deemed it impossible. But not a day in my life passes in which I don't regret bringing you up on my own." Her warm touch slides to my shoulder and squeezes support into me, the gesture of shared strength that she had repeated over the years of my childhood. "Trust me, Jill. Your father would have been so _happy…"_

My breath is knocked out in a single blow, and words are too terribly dangerous to use. The ice is too thin to tread on, and they could not begin to describe the knot in my throat.

Mother moves her hand from my shoulder, reluctantly and deep inside. I feel the need to gaze upon her face through unconnected eyes. Goddess, she really is getting older. Deep wrinkles are carved into her mouth, her cheeks becoming more hollow and bony. Her hair is completely gray and wispy. Her teeth are yellowing and wearing down significantly.

Oh Goddess. She really is running out of time, and I loathe myself for having to step back and squint to see it for myself.

I try to speak past the lump in my throat. "Mom…"

She shakes her head. "No, Jill, because it took me so long to realize it for myself. You are not at fault. Nobody is but the cruel aspect of time." Her tear filled eyes scan around the room, and with a single hand, she scoops up the gift bag and wordlessly hands it to me.

With trembling hands and watery eyes, I scratch away at the thin veil of tissue paper, my efforts are rewarded with a small statue of a gazelle, a graceful animal sculpture. It was born from a block of lime and granite, carved into a small animal bust, and polished until the stone could shine, glimmer even in the humblest of candlelight. It was…lovely.

Mother grins at me shyly as I run my hands over the flawlessly smooth surface in awe. "It's a chiwara," she explains quietly. "It symbolizes agricultural prosperity, and a feeling of togetherness." My cheeks light up a shade.

"T-thank you," I stutter stupidly.

She nods. "You're welcome. I hope Marlin and you have many good times with your new family." Taking my hand and squeezing it, her eyes shine again, unshed tears on her cataracts. "Never, _ever_ give up on your dreams, Jill. Your father was once propelled by a dream, only to be crashed down by his own overwork. But you are smart girl, and I have faith." A dreamy, wistful expression consumes her. "Now, I must take my leave." I splutter a blind protest, but force myself into silence to allow her to speak. "This place is wonderful, but there are…just too many memories."

I press my lips together in a thin line, my tears finally spilling over in a thousand joys and sorrows of a lifetime. But I am not wounded, not injured. I am satisfied. Mother stands on her toes to kiss my cheek tenderly. "Don't cry, my beautiful daughter," she soothes blandly. "In time, we will meet again."

Through the door, she drifts, carpetbag in hand, out to the first snowfall of winter. The snowflakes consume her as she moves slowly into the cold, gray sky, leaving me alone with my little one and my thoughts.


	15. Paltry

The delicate melody and brash harmony weave a haunting pattern on the midnight-streaked dusk. Piano notes echo fruitfully on the still air. As Lumina's gentle, nurturing fingers blend the notes into something beyond beautiful, a story of bliss and love is told, an invisible seducer. A charmer.

The pedals on the piano thunk, and I strain my eyes to better see the graceful manner in which she plays. In the mellow, warm light of the mansion's ritzy lamps, I can scarcely trace the shallow scratches and lesions among the hood of the piano, the bent manner in which the pedals are fashioned. Broken. Paltry. And for some reason, it shocks me…naturally, I would expect Romana to purchase only the best quality for her beloved granddaughter…but it comes as a shock that such a sweet tune could be borne from a paltry, old instrument.

My fingers move to touch the quaint lid, feeling the indents and wear from age. Lumina eyes me, but the trust of a young girl enables her to let me observe. The song ends with an elegant glissando that spirals upward, high and clear as it twists through the icy, indigo sky of a clear night in winter.

I clap softly, the sound echoing, hollow, through the high ceilings of the mansion. My shawl drapes lightly over my shoulder, hanging haphazardly from my ballooned stomach. By now, it looks about ready to burst, as swollen as it is. Lumina giggles quietly in her palm, her cheeks becoming flushed and pink in embarrassment. She is always skittering away from the limelight, but I can tell from afar how she yearns for a stolen moment of attention that blossoms from her talents.

"Thank you, Jill." Her voice is sharp and blood, confident despite her childish demeanor.

I shrug it off. "Thank you for having Marlin and I over for dinner." I place a light hand on the creature, harboring inside of me. "Well, Marlin and the baby and I, actually."

She beams, a glitter of excitement twinkling in her eyes. "When are you going to have the baby?"

"Any day now," I answer casually, though my heart races as the words go past my dry mouth.

"Already?" Lumina asks, smoothing her cream colored skirt as she rises from her bench. "Wow. This whole thing just seemed to fly by."

Oh, she doesn't even know how I had wanted the arrival of my child, the sacred time that I could swaddle it in my arms. Anticipation hangs onto me, latches on to me like a fiend. But nerves are also strong and present, along with a scruple of dread. There are so many things that can go wrong, so many things that could affect my child's temperament and personality. I am venturing out in the vast unknown with only my husband by my side, holding my hand.

But even he isn't here as the permanent truth leaks onto me all over again. He's in the next room as Romana loads him with leftovers from supper to carry.

As if he had heard my beckoning, Marlin elbows past the kitchen's door, his arms full to bursting with elegant silver dishes that look as if they are to tumble down, shattering.

"Oh…Auntie!" Lumina cries in exasperation as she rushes forward to ease the weight from marlin's arms. I can't help but chuckle as Lumina stacks the dishes obsessively back into them, brushing them almost sending an almond torte crashing to the plush carpeting.

Romana cackles her signature laugh, a cutesy little titter. "Oh, don't be so orderly, Lumina. Jill's pregnant! She needs the strength to raise her child!"

Lumina draws in her bottom lip and nibbles on it. She is never able to talk back, always has to obey the orders that are thrown at her. I sigh wearily, gaze upon the purple, horn-rimmed spectacles of the old woman, and take charge of the situation for her once more. "Really, Romana, you don't have to give us _all_ the leftovers."

"No, no, no, take them," she insists, jabbing the tip of her umbrella into the ground with every word in fierce, stubborn determination. "You'll need them more than we will any day, my dear." A small grin plays on my lips at this. Always stubborn as she is, Romana has a heart that is in the right place, nevertheless.

"Thank you, " I tell her, finally surrendering and lifting a few small tins from Marlin's arms and cradling them close to me. "We will use them. But we'd best be on our way…it's getting dark out."

"Very well." Romana nods, her jaw set as she strides to the grand foyer doors, her frilly dress trailing behind her. "Take care of yourselves, and let us know if you need any help. We'd be pleased to offer any."

I turn and grant Lumina a questioning look, but she smiles warmly. I give her a relieved smile back. I know it bothers Lumina that Romana always volunteers her without her consent, but it eases the fear in my heart. At least her thoughts will be with us on the day of the delivery, among other tings.

After we say our final goodbyes, it is just Marlin and I and the endless expanse of stars that only the quiet country has to offer.

XXXXX

That night was long and lonely.

My dreams are plagued with visions of limbs, disfigured and detached, writhing on the straw bedding inside the barn. I would swallow my fears and stumble through the empty doorway. Darkness swallows me, and I narrow my eyes, trying desperately to see through the opaque black.

Fear strikes its way into my heart, the same sickish dread that only comes when I know that I am about to do something wrong. Instinct.

And then I see the glittering, empty eyes, dull and yet vibrant. The eyes of a baby that seer my body and scorch my soul into charred ashes. Oh goddess…something is going to happen right now! I can _feel _it!

"_Jill!"_

And when I open my eyes from the nightmare, about two things are remotely distinct…Marlin's fearful face inches from mine and great, heavy pain that wracks my body all over.

Marlin tries to calm himself, still his shaking. He reaches out to sweep my sodden, sweat-soaked bangs from my eyes. "What is it?" he asks, concerned.

"Oh goddess…" I grip his wrist and squeeze until the oxygen drains his fingers, fades them into ugly purple. "Get Doctor Hardy, quick! The baby…it's coming!"

XXXX

**My severe apologies for the lack of updates. Holidays kicked me into high gear, and I'm afraid that they still have me lodged in their tight fists…though now it seems as if school and other activities are getting in the way…XD**


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